


actions rather than words

by lilibetpride



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Keith (Voltron)-centric, Lance as Alex, M/M, Red White and Royal Blue AU, keith as henry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22069762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilibetpride/pseuds/lilibetpride
Summary: His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest, bleeding all over the white sheets, drowning them both. The papers would have the time of their lives.Prince Keith of Wales and FSOTUS Lance McClain-Díaz, found dead together in a Parisian hotel room, after seemingly spending the night together.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 87





	actions rather than words

**Author's Note:**

> first prompt of the year: royalty. i couldn’t not use red, white and royal blue when keith and lance are literally henry and alex. (title from one of alexander hamilton’s letters to john laurens).

Keith was fucked. Absolutely and thoroughly _fucked_. 

_One_ : he was supposed to go back to London in about six –maybe seven?– hours, something he didn’t want to do. 

_Two_ : he was in bed with the First Son of the United States, not in his own hotel down the street. 

Like reading his thoughts, Lance stirred up. Keith held his breath, ready for his words when he woke up –probably a joke or maybe even an over exaggerated shout to show his surprise in a very Lance manner–. But Lance just sighed in his sleep, snuggling even closer to Keith. 

_Three_ : he was in love with Lance. 

Like, _actually_ in _love_ with his self-proclaimed “rival”. 

His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest, bleeding all over the white sheets, drowning them both. The papers would have the time of their lives. “ _Prince Keith of Wales and FSOTUS Lance McClain-Díaz, found dead together in a Parisian hotel room, after seemingly spending the night together._ ” 

That’d definitely give his Gran a heart attack… Shiro too. 

Oh, _God_ , he was thinking of his _Grandmother_ while on bed with a _man_. He couldn’t stop the groan that escaped his throat, hiding his face on his elbow. Lance shifted again, but didn’t seem to be waking up anytime soon. 

Good, more time to gay panic _alone_. 

They didn’t do _this_ , they didn’t sleep together after _sleeping together_ , they didn’t cuddle each other and wake up entangled. They didn’t stare into the other under the soft light the moon granted them from the window, getting lost in the constellation their freckles formed in their bare, wide shoulders. They didn’t wonder what the other was dreaming, if it was of _them_.

Lance slept with his mouth slightly open, a peaceful expression he rarely –if ever– showed, an arm draped over Keith’s chest. He couldn’t keep still even asleep, mumbling and twitching from time to time. He slept like a rock, Keith was pretty sure he could start playing drums next to him and Lance would still be deep in his dreams. 

Keith thought, and prayed, that this _thing_ going on with them would fade out with time, or at the very least would become easier. That he could maybe squeeze his feelings out of his body, leave them at the door the next time he saw Lance. 

He realises it’s not only his chest, but his head was also pounding. Two bloody bottles of wine and he feels like he spent all night drinking and partying. Maybe it was the mix of alcohol and _Lance_ , probably the two most intoxicating things in the planet. 

Always reading his thoughts, Lance let out a sigh and lifted his head up from the pillow, sleepy eyes examining his face. 

Keith’s heart did a full-on Olympic routine. 

“I can hear your thoughts from my sleep you ass.” Lance said, followed by a long and deep yawn. “Stop being so goddamn loud.” 

“I’m not in my hotel room.” Keith managed to get out. 

Lance raised an eyebrow. “You practically fell asleep on me, I already knew that.” 

Keith was still in awe of how fucking _oblivious_ Lance was of this whole situation. The room was dead silent, he should’ve probably noticed how loud Keith’s heart was beating, or the blush that crept up his neck at their closeness. 

It was the most improper thing he could imagine. Years and years of tiptoeing the line between acceptance and denial of his own sexuality culminating in the moment his drunk-self decided kissing the First Son of the United States in the White House in New Year’s was a good idea. 

This _thing_ between them, couldn’t go any longer, he decided. 

“I should go back, then.” Keith used his elbow to lift himself up, his head spinning with the sudden movement. “Don’t want any paparazzi catching us in the morning.” 

Lance’s hand came up immediately, holding his wrist in place. Keith tried not to look at him, but the feeling of his eyes burning holes into his hair were stronger than he thought. He turned his head, starting a staring contest with him. 

He’d been taught since he was a little child how to make his face unreadable, how to manipulate people into thinking he had no opinions… But maybe he’s still a little drunk, and Lance is too, because next thing he knows he’s practically throwing himself into the other man, pinning him down the bed to get the feeling of his eyes off him. 

It doesn’t really work. His deep brown eyes search up and down his face for an answer to a question neither of them can actually ask. 

“Stay?” Lance asks, instead of the obvious conversation they should be having. _Maybe it’s for the better_ , he supposed, _no confusion in staying_. 

Keith tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. Lance looks up at him with tenderness, a soft expression that didn’t add up. He had been the one to proclaim that this _thing_ stayed only like that, no need to change their relationship before that. 

But their relationship had changed. A lot. From “hating” each other's’ guts, to being forced to become friends, to talking to each other all-day every-day, to flying all over the world to “see” each other. Keith had more fun these last months than he arguably did for most of his life. 

Over the years, he’d met plenty of people, had made a small amount of friends, but no-one seemed to actually know him like Lance did. He could read him like a book, and with just a word Keith was at his mercy.

“Baby?” Lance said, a hand cupping his cheek. 

_Yeah_ , that word.

“I…” Keith started, but sighed and cut himself off. He closed his eyes, trying to numb the feeling of Lance’s warmth on his cheek. “Okay, I’ll stay… But we _have_ to wake up early.” 

Lance hummed, because he knew Keith didn’t sleep. He went to bed and stayed up until his body shut down, usually waking up before sunrise. His schedule made it almost impossible to see his therapist more than an hour a month, and he couldn’t find it in himself to ask for more pills when he’d been dependant on them for more than two years. 

“Come here, Your Royal Ass, I want to cuddle.” Lance said, making Keith chuckle.

“Needy.” 

“Yeah, yeah, try not to hoard all the covers, or I’ll kick you off this bed.”

Keith couldn’t help it, he knew Lance was in the awake state of talking, and the only way to get him to shut up was kissing him. Lance yelped in surprise, but he felt him melt quickly into the kiss, the hand on his cheek travelling to his hair. It was an uncomfortable position, his elbow was already going numb from holding him just above Lance.

Like hearing his thoughts, Lance broke off the kiss, his breath tingling against Keith’s lips. He changed the position quickly, now hovering above him, his legs tangled with him. “I wanna be little spoon.” he mumbled.

Keith laughed again, his arms wrapping Lance’s waist. “As you wish.”

Lance gave him a peck, before eyeing him warily. “If you repeat that to anyone, I’ll strike your plane right out of the sky.”

“You’ll drag your colony to war just so I can’t tell the press you are a little spoon?” Keith asked, smiling.

Lance’s brows furrowed, and he looked like he was trying to hide a pout. “If you call my country a colony again you can bet your royal ass that I will.” 

“I’m so scared right now, what will the Crown do without me?” Keith rolled his eyes. “Poor Kosmo, he’ll be waiting for me at Kensington.”

“Not fair to drag your dog into this, I thought brits were gentlemen.”

“What can I say? Your Americanism rubbed off on me.” 

“It’s not the only thing I…”

Keith cut him off before he could finish his sentence, knowing very well how it ended. “Lance.”

This time, Lance did pout. “You’re no fun.”

“And you told me you wanted to sleep, or should I go?” Lance pout only deepened at his words.

“Fine! We sleep, even though the night is young and there’s plenty of stuff to do…” Keith raised an eyebrow. Lance copied him, smirking. “Get those thoughts out of your head, Prince Wales, I’m one yawn away from sleep.” At his words, Keith let out a yawn. Lance followed him. “Fuck you.”

“That’s no way of talking to a Prince.”

“Fuck you, _sir_.”

“That’s better.” 

Lance laughed, wasting no time in dipping his head to catch Keith’s lips in his. The contact was burning him, the heavy weight inside his head dissipating. Objectively, that was the thing keeping him grounded, with one feet in the real world. If that weight –the Crown– didn’t exist, he would’ve probably already dropped to one knee and ask Lance to marry him, instantly getting himself out of the line of succession and banned from England. 

He felt like every kiss was getting him closer to doing that. Dropping everything just so he could be with Lance. The _weight_ and Lance’s clear words of not going any further than this _thing_ were a blessing and a curse. Lance didn’t seem to notice his internal struggle, and always pushed him a little further like he wasn’t about to explode and confess the feelings he thought were obvious.

The kiss stopped, and Keith took his time before opening his eyes. When he did, the softness in Lance’s eyes took him by surprise. For a moment, it seemed like he wanted to say something to Keith, but he just pecked his cheek.

“Stop thinking, Keith, it’s sleep time.” Lance murmured, dropping his head on Keith’s chest, an arm thrown around him, cuddling him closer. “Do you know French?”

“Of course I know _French_ , I know more languages than I’ll ever need.” He didn’t find the courage, even with the alcohol, to tell Lance the words he actually wanted to say. 

Lance hummed in thought. “Then you’re asking for breakfast in the morning.” Keith let out a breathy laugh. He could feel Lance smiling against his chest. “Goodnight, Keith.”

He swallowed his feelings down, instead getting a hand up Lance’s curls. “Goodnight, Lance.”

He waited until Lance had fallen asleep, until the quiet snores returned, before risking a glance at the man sprawled almost on top of him. He hoped one day _this_ would be the norm, not the exception.

“I love you.” he whispered into Lance’s hair, closing his eyes to try and fall asleep.

Who could blame him if he actually did?


End file.
